


The Princess and The Smith

by TheNorthernBastard



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-07-14 13:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16041479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNorthernBastard/pseuds/TheNorthernBastard
Summary: Arya Stark returned to Winterfell hardened by the traumas of her past.With the threat of the Night King handing over their heads, Arya helps her sister prepare for the War For The Dawn.Believing herself to be a stone cold assassin, Arya believes she won't ever feel again.But when her beloved half brother Jon Snow, returns to Winterfell with The Mother of Dragons and a certain bastard blacksmith in tow, her icy heart begins to melt.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gendrya Shippers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Gendrya+Shippers).



"That's it Ned! Keep that shield up or Lyanna will ring your head like a bell!" Arya called as she observed the day's training session.

Whilst she certainly had a head for numbers and a knack for keeping accounts of the tunings of the holdfast, Arya had made it her personal duty to help in overseeing the training for battles to come. She proceeded to walk about the training yard, hands behind her back, Needle, bouncing gently against her thigh with each step that she took and she called out instructions, and giving correction when necessary.

 

"Arya!"

 

She walked back across the yard, when she saw her sister standing at the entrance to the training yard. Upon registering the agitated look on her sister's face, Arya's pace quickened.

"What is it?" she asked, her hand flying to Needle's hilt, readying herself for battle.

Sansa's lips quirked into a half smile. "It's Jon, a scout just arrived. He'll be here before nightfall". Arya couldn't help but allow her mouth to stretch into a smile. "I'm having everyone gather in the courtyard. You'd better finish today's session early" Sansa told her, her grin growing wider. Arya turned around to the residence of the yard. In a loud voice she called out to them. "Today's session is over, but your training swords in the armoury, then go back to your rooms and put your best clothes on". Arya walked with her sister out of the training yard and followed her up into the sheltered over-walk the overlooked the open yards around the keep of Winterfell, and walked with her up to the battlements. "So", Arya began slowly. Sansa turned her head towards her sister, "we're going to be hosting the Dragon Queen," Sansa finished her sister's sentence.

It'd become a sort of ritual. Since Petyr Baelish's execution, the girl's bond had strengthened to that of iron. "Yes, and you'll be reunited with your former husband" Arya said lightly, looking over at her older sister, and, not for the first time, she was struck by the uncanniness of Sansa's resemblance to their mother. "Yes", her fire-kissed sister nodded. "I'm glad he's alive. It will be nice to see him again." Arya smiles lightly and turned her head back to face the front and stare longingly out at the field, carpeted white by the snow. "I saw her once", Arya commented casually. "Who?" "The Mother of Dragons", was Arya's light reply. Out the corner of her eye, Arya was able to register the surprise on her older sister's face. "What was she like?" "I remember seeing her riding a white horse, and her hair, with her dragons flying overhead", at the memory a light smile crossed Arya's features, dark and defined brows pulling together. "It's not something you'd forget in a hurry." "She really looked like a queen," Arya's tone was mystified and her face awestruck.  "Do you miss Braavos?" Arya looked at her sister, surprised.

She shook her head. "No. I don't."

 

 

"Arya?"

 

 

"Yes?"

 

 

"What happened to you in Braavos?"

 

 

 

Although Sansa's voice carried a great amount of curiosity, Arya could see the concern and worry in her sister's face. Arya sucked in a sharp breath, and then she looked away. "It's alright you know", Sansa said softly to her. "Whatever happened to you, you can tell me". Arya closed her eyes abs shook her head. She felt the icy layer set over her heart. "I can't Sansa. I can't tell you". "Why?" "Because I did things. Terrible things." Arya's grew distant, and for a moment Sansa knew she was in another place entirely. "Arya I spent years trapped under the thumbs of people like Cersei and Joffrey. They spent years torturing and tormenting me, there's nothing you could do that would shock me", Sansa spoke softly but with a conviction Arya has only seen in one other person.

Her father.

 

 

She shook her head. Closing her eyes as tears slid down her face. "I can't Sansa. I just can't!" She felt Sansa's arms envelope her in a comforting embrace. "Alright, alright." "Those memories haunt me every night. I want to tell you but I think my heart will forever be closed off to the rest of the world." Sansa didn't respond. Instead she continued to keep her younger sister in her embrace.

 

"You're not as cold as you think you are Arya, you just have to let people in." She released her sister and Arya cleared her throat, reaching up to wipe the tears from her face.

 

She laughed lightly. "I think we should get ready for Jon's arrival".

 

 

 

Later on that day, Arya was sat on the edge of her bed, in her chambers, a tunic, altered by Sansa to be dress-like, it wasn't too feminine but it complimented her small and curved frame, laid on the bed beside her. It was a dark grey, the direwolf of house Stark embroidered with great detail into the right shoulder , and black vine like patterns covered the rest of tunic in a diagonal pattern from the direwolf pattern on the right shoulder to the bottom of the left side of the tunic.

 

Although Arya never liked girly clothing , even Arya had to admit that it was indeed very beautiful. She wore a light blue shirt with black breeches and a pair of black boots to match, and Arya closed her eyes as Sansa ran a brush gently through her hair. Before braiding half of it up and letting the tail of the braid hand loose with the rest of her hair. "You've always had beautiful hair", Sansa said wistfully. "Please don't ever cut it again."

 

Arya turned her head to smile lightly at her sister. "You've always been the beautiful one Sansa, not me." This time it was Sansa's turn to smile lightly at her sister. "You don't give yourself enough credit Arya. You're a true Northern Beauty." The two young women shares a light smile. When Arya caught her sister's eye, they both began to laugh. "Come on", chuckled Sansa, "let's get you into this tunic", she chuckled again. Arya stood between her brother and sister as she waited for the arrival of Jon Snow, the favourite out of all of her siblings. Her cloaked flapped lightly in the gentle breeze and she wriggled her toes in her boots.

 

"Be calm sister, they'll be here any moment", Brandon Stark soothed  his older sister. As if on cue, proving her brother right, the ground began shake and rumble as multiple horses filled the courtyard. At the forefront of the retinue were five riders. Joy overwhelmed Arya's heart as she laid eyes on her half-brother, a smile stretched her lips, reaching her eyes and and a laugh bubbled in her throat. But her laugh came out as a strangled sob as her sight settled on a pair of distinctive blue eyes, belonging to a man she believed to have died a long time a go.

 

  " _Gendry_?"


	2. Two

Arya couldn't breath. Tears filled her vision, to the point where she was almost blind and the world began to spin as as a pain built up in her head to an almost excruciating pressure, she reached out to grip her sister's arm for a sense of stability.  
Sansa turned her head in response to her sister's sudden state of shock and placed a hand on her bony shoulder.

 

Shaking her head, her hand instinctively flew to rest on Needle's hilt, her fingers wrapping firmly around the weapon. She couldn't take her eyes off him.

Her bastard blacksmith. 

Her companion of many months. 

He was here. 

In Winterfell. 

He was here. 

Seven Hells! 

"Arya?" 

Her head snapped away towards Jon. He'd already dismounted his horse and now he stood less than a foot away from her. Her trance had broken. Jon was starring at her, eyes filled with worry and concern. "Arya?" Jon's warm palm pressed against her cheek as his face levelled with hers. "I'm alright", she smiled weakly, her eyes watering with mirthful tears. 

"I've missed you Little-Wolf."

Arya leapt up, throwing her arms around her brothers's shoulders, burrowing her face into Jon's shoulder.   
He laughed lightly, circling his arms around her middle. "You're a shade heavier than I remember", he said, gently setting her down, she scowled mockingly at him, shoving his chest lightly. 

"That wasn't very ladylike."

The voice was soft, but even so, Arya registered it, turning back to the young blacksmith.   
Gendry was watching her, hands by his side, a wolfish grin pulling at his lips. Arya walked towards him, slowly closing the distance between them. And when she was naught but a single step away, she stopped.   
For a beat, there was silence. 

Crack! 

Her palm cut harshly across his cheek.   
Once again there was silence. 

Gendry's face has scrunched slightly against the pain. He made no move to retaliate or cradle his reddened face. Instead, he nodded. 

"I deserved-"

And suddenly, Arya's slight body collided into his, her arms circling his middle and her face buried in his chest. 

"That." 

He finished slowly, smiling lightly as he returned her embrace, lowering his head and pressing his lips to the top of her head. 

 

"I thought you were dead you idiot!". 

 

The words were slightly muffled, but he still heard them, and the anguish in her voice. "I could say the same about you Arry". She punched his chest, but the action barely made an impact, and her fist collided weakly with the front of his furred jerkin. Somebody cleared their throat dramatically and Gendry looked up, gently uncurling an arm from his embrace with the small young woman and looked up to see that the Stark's, the Dragon Queen, Thormund, Davos, whose eyebrows had flown up to his hairline and harsh warning look in his eyes, and the rest of courtyard were watching then. 

"If you two are quite finished!" So it was Ser Davis who had cleared his throat. Arya coughed, straightening up and releasing him from her embrace moving stand beside him. Arya smiles sheepishly at her brother and she looked down as Gendry's hand came down to wrap around hers.   
Arya looked back to see Jon regarding her with narrowed eyes, she could see what his glower seemed to be saying. 

'We're going to talk about this later!'

Sansa cleared her throat, giving Jon a warning look as she released him from an embrace before she folded her hands neatly in front of her.

The flame-haired young woman dropped a curtsy, her eyes on Daenerys, her face masked in a court-perfected smile. A smile Arya recognised, Cersei Lannister's smile as she said,   
"Winterfell is yours, Your Grace."

 

 

It felt as if the event between herself and Gendry that had transpired had taken hours, and now Arya's senses were overwhelming, as she stood face to face with the Dragon Queen, who regard Arya with an expectant demeanour, and the blank expression she'd learned to assume during her time with the House of Black and White, slipped onto Arya's face. Her lips set in a hard line.   
The only thing stopping from completely assuming the persona of No-One was Gendry's scaldingly warm hand, pressed against her own like a hot coal. 

"Your Grace, welcome to Winterfell!" Arya said, a false smile plastered across her face as she schooled her features to hide the suspicion she truly felt.   
"Arya Stark", said the Dragon Queen, taking a few steps towards her, "I've heard quite a bit about you."   
Arya forced herself to keep her free hand at her side, she was vaguely aware of Gendry's fingers lacing with her own, his grip tightening on her hand. His message was clear. 

'Be calm, there is nothing to fear!'

"Only the good things I hope", Arya said primly. Daenerys narrowed her eyes slightly as a knowing smirk tugged at her lips as she looked down at the younger of the Stark girls.   
Daenerys' eyes flicked down to Arya's and Gendry's intertwined hands, before she looked up at the blacksmith's face before looking at Arya again. 

"I see that you and The Blacksmith are well acquainted". Arya's mouth set in a hard line and she scowled at Daenerys. "His name is Gendry, Your Grace!" Arya emphasised the last two words in a mocking tone, not caring for the consequences. Daenerys smirked, already deciding she liked the small quicksilver girl, and looped her arm through Arya's and pulled her along, forcing Gendry to relinquish his hold on Arya's hand. Arya threw him an apologetic smile over her shoulder as she was pulled along by the Mother of Dragons.   
"So", Daenerys prompted as they entered the keep. 

 

"Tell me your story Arya Stark!"

"It's a rather long tale your Grace" Arya started slowly, choosing her words carefully, drawing from her training at The House of Black and White. 

She looked over her shoulder to see that they were being followed inside by the tensing residence of the castle. Arya caught Sansa's eye, grimacing and lifting a shoulder. Next to Sansa, Jon wheeled Bran's chair, Ser Davos and Gendry following behind. Arya couldn't help but smile at her beloved bastards. 

"Well," said Daenerys, tugging Arya out of her reverie, "you'd better start now". 

Arya let out a breath she hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Well Your Grace, my story starts the day Robert Baratheon named my father Hand of the King".


	3. Three

Jon watched as Daenerys walked with his sister, he couldn't hear exactly what Arya was talking about, but he could guess what she was telling the silver haired woman.

Most likely the horrors that she'd experienced on her escape from Kings Landing and the road to The Wall.  
Sansa had mentioned in her letter to Jon when he was still at Dragonstone. She'd apparently been found by Yoren, a brother of The Night's Watch, had her hair forcefully shorn away and disguised as an orphan. Later, Sansa had told him in another letter that Arya had been a prisoner at Harrenhal, and later escaped, traveled with The Hound, and when they'd crossed paths with Brienne of Tarth and Podric Payne, a fight had followed over who should be responsible for his sister's safety, when Clegane had lost, Arya had left him to die, and fled to Braavos. Whatever she'd been doing in Braavos had left only a shell of the Arya that Jon knew and loved.

 

He looked over his shoulder at Gendry, the blacksmith appeared to be very interested in his boots as he walked along side Ser Davos. Sansa placed a hand on his shoulder before taking over the role of wheeling Bran's chair, allowing him to speak to Gendry.

"Gendry?" Jon said slowly, the other man looked at him, eyes wide, he bowed his respectfully. "Yes y'Grace?" he looked nervous, almost as if he were under the impression that Jon would have his head for even associating with Arya. Jon paused for a beat, cautious on how to broach the subject. He looked at the young blacksmith, a man who'd become one his closest friends within a matter of weeks. He looked at his sister, Sansa only nodded before continuing her journey along the hallway.

Placing a hand on Gendry's shoulder, he led him away from the rest of the group. They walked for a while, and it wasn't until they reached overhead walk that surrounded Winterfell's courtyard that Jon stopped at turned around to face him.  
Gendry couldn't place the look on the Stark bastard's face, but the hard look in his eyes was enough for him to know that he was in too deep to get out now.

"How is it that you know my sister Gendry?" Jon's voice was icy and his tone clipped. Gendry breathed out a low, strained sigh.

"It's a long story y'Grace."

"Well we don't have all day."

Gendry moved to brace his weight against the stonewall of the overhead-walk and crossed his arms, suddenly finding that the snow melting off of his boots was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. He looked up at the man who'd become one his closest friends. The look of fear, worry and concern was enough for Gendry to know that, at the very least, Jon wouldn't cut his head off once he came to hear if he and Arya had become such close friends.

"Jon, I..." Gendry trailed off, cleared his throat and tried again. Stepping forwards to stand next to his friend, Gendry began again.  
"Jon-"

"Jon!"

They both turned their heads, looking towards the noise of the shout, as a group of rugged, winter-weary, half-dead hardened men stumbled into the main courtyard of Winterfell, and moving closer still to the doors leading into the great keep.

"Gods be good!" Jon breathes out. "They're alive!" Jon took off at a quick pace, casting a concerned glance over is shoulder to Gendry. The blacksmith took this look as an order to follow. Following the indication of Jon Snow's somewhat indignant look, Gendry did follow, clenching his hands in relief of avoiding an awkward conversation with the current Warden of The North.

"Edd!"

"Tormund!"

Gendry couldn't help registering the relief in his friend's voice. He quickened his steps, unable to help inwardly laughing at the irony of when he'd called Jon 'short'.

 

Arya was growing more and more frustrated by the second. The moment The Dragon Queen has spoken to her, Arya had already decided that she did not like her one bit, she starts sharing several looks with Sansa and Bran, it was clear that her siblings felt the same.

Daenarys Targaryen practically smelled of arrogance, Arya notes that when she'd walked her horse into Winterfell's courtyard that she was expecting the Northerners to fall to their knees and cry out in gratitude.  
The Northerners had fallen to their knees, true enough, but it was clear it was not gratitude or love or awe that they felt. Merely hatred, fear and suspicion.

For the first time since the Riverlands and the obliteration of House Frey, she'd felt grateful for the skills she'd learnt at the House of Black and White. As it stood, so far, Arya had managed to fool the Dragon Queen with her faked adoration.

 

"So", Daenarys went on, looking at Arya as they reached the table at the door to Sansa's study, "you must tell me how you know The Blacksmith".  
Arya clenched her jaw, forcing herself into not correcting the older woman on Gendry's name.


	4. Four

Arya had already decided that she did not like Daenerys Targaryen, and it was clear that her sister felt the same about the silver haired queen. 

She'd see her once during her time with the House of Black and White, they'd sent her to The Great Pyramid of Mereen where she posed as a kitchen maid, at the time she'd been a girl of thirteen, naive and full of vengeance and The Mother of Dragons seemed like real-life embodiment of all the stories she'd so loved as a child. 

Now that seemed like far off dream and Arya was clenching her hands into fists at her sides, and forcing herself to bite her tongue.

"... and here I am, with your brother, ready to help in the fight against the dead", Daenerys had finally finished her own tale, and Arya cleared her throat, sitting up straighter in her chair and squaring her shoulders. Standing up, she bowed to the silver haired woman.   
"A fascinating story, but if you'll excuse me, I have to oversee the training," Arya spoke in an icy tone, and she turned her eyes to her sister, bowing respectfully as she spoke again, a lilt of warmth lacing her voice as she spoke. 

"By your leave My Lady?"

Sansa smirked, nodding her head as she watched her sister exit her study. Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa noted the stony expression that had crept into the queen's violet eyes.   
"Your sister is a curious child" she said, a dangerous softness to her tone. Sansa looked at Daenerys then she leaned forwards, picked up her wine glass from the desk and took a long drink before she spoke.   
"My sister is a woman of many mysterious and skills, it takes time to earn her trust and her friendship."

Daenerys cleared her throat and shifted in her chair, clasping her wine glass tighter in her fingers, Sansa knew that antagonising this woman, albeit indirectly, she'd would be dangerous. She shifted forwards in her chair and set her hand on the table, she pushed a smile onto her lips as she spoke, "I should've thanked you, you abandoned your war with Cersei to help us", Daenerys smiles as she leaned across and placed her hand over Sansa's, smiling at the formidable red headed woman.   
"We spent a lot of time together on Dragon Stone, I knew I had to help", she spoke softly, a genuine smile on her face. 

"Men do stupid things when they are manipulated by women they love"

"I'm here because I love your brother", Daenerys spoke gently, "tell me who manipulated who?"  
Sansa resumed her cold demeanour. "And what about the north?"  
As if Sansa had stabbed her, Daenerys snatched her hand away. 

"M'lady?"

The door opened and Sansa turned her eyes to the Winterfell guard who entered the room.   
"Yes Roland?" Roland shifted from one foot to the other, "there's a group of Ironborn here to see you."

Sansa rose from her chair, placing her wine glass on the table, she strode out of her study without a second glance Daenerys.   
Roland fell into step with Sansa, keeping one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other tucked behind his back.   
"Did these Ironborn give you their names?" she asked, turning her head only slightly in Roland's direction. Sansa was sorely aware of Daenerys' hard glare at the back of her neck.   
"No m'lady. Their leader only said that you would want to see him." 

Theon!

Sansa knew that chances of Theon actually being in Winterfell were incredibly unlikely, but there was still a chance that it was him.

 

Arya paced slowly around the training yard, to watching the various sparing matches, her face carrying its usual, unreadable stony expression.   
Her hands rested casually at the base of her back, her shoulders squared and her back straight. There was a part of her that wanted scream, grab Jon by the shoulders and ask him what he was thinking by bringing a Targaryen with two fully grown dragons, Unsullied and Dothraki forces both know for their mercilessness and one known for their brutal traditions of slavery.   
Arya was well aware of Daenerys' battle against slavery, and whilst she couldn't help but admire that about Daenerys, there was something about her that Arya couldn't help but mistrust, as if at any second the silver haired woman would slip into an unpredictable rage. When she'd spent time in Mereen, Arya had heard the stories of how Daenerys appeared to take pleasure in burning her prisoners alive, and that scared Arya beyond belief. 

I fear little, but her, she scares me. She's dangerous, I know what dangerous people look like and she is more dangerous than anyone I've ever seen.

"Lady Stark?" 

 

Arya looked to her left, watching as Tyrion Lannister slowly approached. She regarded him coolly, a wall of mistrust building itself around her, but there was still a tiny part of Arya that was grateful towards the man. In the nights where neither one of them could sleep, her and Sansa would slip into one another's chambers and talk late into the night. Sansa had told her how Tyrion was always kind to her, that yes, he was smart and somewhat conniving and devious, but never spiteful, towards Sansa at least. She'd also heard what he'd done for Bran, about the saddle he'd designed that would allow her brother to continue his riding. It was that tiny part of her wanted to thank him for what he'd done.

Arya looked down at the Lannister man, he stared back at her, matching her steely look with one of his one. Her eyes flicked to the silver pin on his chest, her mouth quirking.  
"What can I do for you My Lord Hand?" morning 

"The Queen thanks you and your sister for your generosity and hospitality, it's shame that the circumstances are as that are." Tyrion spoke slowly, Arya gave a half bow to the man, her lips pulling into a half grin.   
"It's Shane your queen did not have the decency to thank us herself" she quipped.

"Touché!"

They held each other's gaze for another beat before Tyrion smiled, sharp eyes holding a knowing glint. "May I walk with you my lady?"

"Only if you don't call me that!"

"I believe we have an accord!"

 

 

Daenerys watched her Hand and the younger Stark Girl from overhead walkway. Her trusted advisor Missandei of Narth stood diligently beside her, hands clasped beside her back as she observed her queen watching the small Stark woman, Arya, that's her name isn't it?  
A cold, calculated expression etched across Daenerys' face.  
Finally, after a long, pregnant pause. Daenerys spoke, her words careful, her tone dangerous.

"That girl, Arya! I don't like her!"

Missandei took a breath, lifting her chin, as she prepared to speak honestly to the queen that had become her friend. But just as she was about to talk, another voice interrupted her and Missandei turned her head to watch Varys step to Daenerys' other side. 

"She is a daughter of The North. As a young man, when I lived in Kings Landing, I heard stories of the Starks, cold and ruthless when they had to be, but forever just and honourable,  a trader once told me that Starks, like all Northerners are suspicious of outsiders, loyal to their own."

Daenerys turned to her Master of Whisperes. Clenching and then unclenching her jaw, she spat out, "and what would you have me do, Lord Varys?"  
Varys regarded the Dragon Queen with a steely expression, carefully calculating his next words. 

"Make piece with House Stark, show them the side of you that your own people love, give them  
a reason to love you." 

"Lady Sansa", Daenerys ground out. "Wants an independent North, what would you have me do? Grant and lose another of my kingdom?" Varys sighed, as he regarded his queen with a gentle expression, "your grace, when I came into your service, you demanded my loyalty and honesty. Will you give me permission to speak honestly?"   
Daenerys nodded, "speak freely my lord!"

"Granting the North's independence is exactly what I'd have you do. You took no issue in granting the same to the Iron Born, to House Greyjoy, why is North, House Stark, any different?"  
For a moment, Daenerys remained silent, as if she was considering his advice too seriously. And then she spoke again. Her voice soft and dangerous.

"Because I am The Queen!"


	5. Five

"I don't like her!"

"I don't either!" 

"Can we even trust her?"

"I don't know!" 

"We need to talk to Jon!"

"I know!"

"So what do we do?"

Sansa rubbed her temples, closing her eyes, her nose wrinkling in deep thought. Whilst she was overjoyed to have all of remaining siblings together in one place, she couldn't help but feel that it'd been tainted by the prescience of a silver haired woman with two fully grown dragons. 

"Sansa, she's dangerous."

Arya spoke softly this time, and Sansa looked up at her sister to see that she looked almost terrified. The last time she'd ever seen Arya look like that was that day at the Red Fork River, when Nymeria had bitten Joffrey and Lady had been killed.

"I know," Sansa spoke softly, she reached across her desk to grip Arya's hand. "Which is why we have to be careful", she warned, Arya nodded, squeezing Sansa's hand gently, she watched as her sister took in a breath, and Arya steeled herself for the question she was about to ask. 

"So," Sansa began, leaning closer, a small smile pulling at her lips, "you and Gendry?" Arya narrowed her eyes, her lips pulling together in a thin line. "You heard me, what I said to her, that's exactly it", said Arya, her voice scratching in her through, Sansa tipped her head to one side, "Arya, I spent three years living in Kings Landing, I can spot lies just as well as you," she said, she placed her other hand over Arya's. "If you feel for him the way I think you do, with dead marching to us any day, now is the time to say so".

"I don't know Sansa", said Arya, she sucked in a breath a breath and after a breath, she spoke again, "after everything that's happened, I don't know if I can handle something like that." 

"I know that, and I know that whatever you've been through, must've hurt you deeply, but you're safe here Arya", Sansa spoke softly, and then in attempt to make her sister laugh, said dryly, "well, as safe as you can be when the living dead are just days away from stacking". Arya couldn't help the chuckle that left her shaking her head.   
"Alright, alright, you've made you're point." 

Sansa smirked, nodding her head, "I'll speak to Jon, no doubt he's already interrogated your blacksmith," Arya's eyes narrowed, this time in amusement, "and you need to go and speak to him, Gendry I mean, I'm sure he knows what he means to you, but I think you need to say it to him, as yourself, not as 'no-one' or whatever it is you call yourself."

Arya looked down at her knees, chewing her lip before sucking in a deep breath. "He doesn't know what I am Sansa, what I've become, for the longest time all I've had to keep me going is vengeance. To hold onto. My list. It's all I know."  
Sansa gripped her hand gently, her voice soft in its conviction as she spoke.  
"Well maybe it's time find something else to hold onto."

"Maybe, but right now, what is important is surviving the end of the fucking world", Arya said, folding her hands in her lap as Sansa quirked her brow at how casually the profanity left her lips, her mouth twitching in amusement, giving a quip of her own in response. 

"Anything before the word 'but' is horse shit!"

Arya's dark brows flew to her hairline in incredulity, her lips parting in surprise. Sansa only grinned and shrugged. "It's what father used to say, according to Jon that is." She chuckled as she watched Arya fight back a laugh. "He'd never curse in front of his girls", said Sansa, assuming a voice that sounded similar to Jon's. This time a laugh did escape her and she shook her head, and Sansa couldn't help but join her sister in her fit of giggles.   
"Why couldn't we be like this all the time?" Arya said after composing herself, sitting back in her chair, Sansa sighed, biting on her thumbnail. It took a pause before she replied, her eyes suddenly shining with tears.

"We were children, we didn't understand how important loyalty to one another was then."  
Then suddenly both women were on their feet, circling to meet halfway round the desk, wrapping their arms around each other in a tight embrace, both girls trembling, in a mix of grief and joy.

 

 

 

"So, you kept my sister's identity secret for a year, and then when you're captured by the Brotherhood, you have a run-in with The Hound who, as you say, revealed who she is?" said Jon slowly, his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the stone wall of the forge. Slowly, Gendry nodded.   
"Yeah, and then I was captured by the red witch to be murdered but Davos set free and smuggled me on a boat back to Kings Landing before she could do anything else."  
Jon grimaced in sympathy, after he'd found out what the Red Woman had done to the princess Shireen, he'd been furious, almost to the point where he was unable to speak. He'd banished her from the North and threatened to execute her should she ever return.  
Gendry wanted to tell Jon about how Arya had asked him to come with to Riverrun, to her brother Robb, and he'd refused, telling her he was done serving because he'd assumed that was what she was asking him to do, serve her brother, and then he'd told her he wanted to stay with the Brotherhood Without Banners, and she'd given an exclamation of anger and shock.

"Have you lost your mind?" she cried, her face paling, "when the Lannister's find this place, d'you think they'll spare the smiths?"

"They'll cave your head with your own hammer-"   
He interrupted her then, grateful for her concern, relieved that she didn't see him as expendable.   
"The Lannister's wanted to kill me long before I joined the Brotherhood!"

"Listen, I've been serving men my entire life, I served master Mott in Kings Landing and he sold me to the Watch, I served Lord Tywin at Harrenhal wondering everyday if I'd get tortured or killed"

'Wondering everyday how I ever managed to keep you safe!'  
He shook his head, jaw locking, brows pulled together. 

"I'm done serving!"

Arya frowned at him, shaking her head, as she spoke.   
"You just said you were serving Lord Beric!"   
She had a point, and could only nod. "He May be their leader, but these men are brothers", he said, for the first time he'd found somewhere he felt like he belonged, "they're a family", he continued, feeling the ache in chest grow as he watched her walk way. 

"I've never had a family."

Then she'd stopped. Turned around, her eyes shining with tears, lips trembling as she gazed at him.

"I can be your family!"

His heart had broken then, because, as much as he wanted that, no matter how desperately he wanted that to be true, he knew, he knew that could never be. He bowed his, resigning to his lot in life, he held her eyes, trying to get her to understand as he said, "you wouldn't be my family..." he hesitated but he forced the words out anyway, no matter how badly it hurt, "you'd me M'Lady". 

The moment he says those words he'd regretted them almost instantly, because the way she was looking at him now made him want to reach out to her, to hold her close to get her to understand that this is the best that life will offer him. But she'd turned and walked away from him before he do anything else. He'd sat there for a moment longer, letting the tears fall. 

It was one of his most painful memories, rivalling that of the memory of when his mother died.  
He didn't even get to see her body. He'd just been scooped up by his mother's friend, carried to Mott's shop and that was it. He was barely a boy of five at the time.   
But her sun coloured hair and her river-green eyes, her gentle hands and the song about Brave Danny Flint was all he could remember of her. 

"Gendry?" 

He jumped, stumbling backwards and slamming his head against the stone wall.   
Eyes watering in pain, he blinked rapidly, as he looked at Jon.   
"Sorry, I just, painful memory. Don't really like talking about it", he mumbled, rubbing his at the back of his head and neck.  
Jon grimaced, watching him with careful eyes. 

"I know the feeling, I've got too many of those, they haunt me to this day!"


End file.
